#but you think i’m putting those on my profile?? ain’t no way

[starved-vyka]

I just downloaded 3 different dating apps, filled out profiles for each of them, then set my profile to invisible. I don’t intend on meeting people atm. I just wanted to use the profile creation to get a better grasp of myself (my sense of self is slipping).

[little-de-vil]

Hi! Sorry this took so long to get to you, but I hope my long-windedness makes up for it. Starting with your distinction of Cutters and Keepers… I find this really interesting and I had heard the terms thrown around on your blog a lot and I always was like “I should look into that” and then I didn’t because I’m a horribly forgetful person. BUT! I finally did, and I adore the way you’ve set up the structure of class divides in Two. After re-reading Mockingjay, where Katniss spends a few weeks in Two and lives with resistance fighters in mining communities in Two, I have always been interested in how the distinction between Peacekeepers in Two and the whole gladiator culture with the Careers and volunteering came to be. 

The line: “The southern desert folk and their blunt nature, entrenched in tradition that mirrors what it was before. The northern mountain people and their river sweet ways, creating new rituals after living so close to their invaded neighbors.” was just SO GOOD. And I really like how you managed to keep the aspects of pride prevalent in the culture of D2, but made sure to separate the pride of the Cutters and their cultural traditions from the pride of those more influenced by propaganda in D2. (Also… If you ever were to write on ao3, I would absolutely devour your fics. I’m still reading through Snowfall Upon Sophroniscus on Tumblr, so I may need to pick your brains on that once I finish, but I had to talk to you abt your amazing D2 lore first). 

Another quote as a segue: “The Keepers: soldiers—the common grunt and almost unheard of 2 born general.” This really struck me, especially because of the very obvious profiling shown in TBOSAS with the officer candidate test and Coriolanus saying that the other cadets can’t read so he had an advantage. Of course, one of D2’s primary industries is peacekeeping, but I can’t imagine the Capitol would be happy putting any district people in a place of power after the first rebellion. (Since I’m into D13, I think that they have officers and did before the dark days which kind of served as a warning to the Capitol not to have that happen again). 

Now onto the post about religion in Panem, and the concept of “Saying Your Stones”. I thought this was such a wonderful tradition, and again you have a real talent for creating meaningful (and canon, imo) cultural traditions. I’m interested in the fact that the practice changed after the war from something one did by themselves to a community focused event. It was in an effort to create more ties to the community, yes, but was there any other reason? Was it a form of cultural resistance? I’d also LOVE to know your thoughts on what those who moved from the Capitol to Two as officers thought about D2 cultural traditions and what their efforts were to suppress them!

Now, the FIRST SONG! You have truly rewired my brain here. It sounds very “traditional”, I’m not sure how else to say it. I guess what I mean is authentic. My favorite verse has got to be this one:

And in come new folk, bold and strong

No hammer or pickaxe

Just guns and armor, waving banners of country flag

Ain’t got no space to hold ‘em, but they make space themselves

Takin’ our homes, our pride, our love, our work

They don’t do much in mountain-land ‘sides work us to the bone

I think you hit the nail on the head when it came to the opinions of the Cutters on the new coming peacekeepers. I appreciate that you think there is a genuine physical divide between the Keepers and the Cutters, because I think that may be the only way that the Capitol could prevent riots and constant class tension between the industries. Also an excellent critique on the Capitol's imperialism. 

All in all, I am so glad I read your explanations regarding the development of the class divide in D2, because it is something I have been very interested in ever since I re-read Mockingjay. The work that you have put in here is very impressive, and very realistic when it came to the shift in attitude over time, and how a decent amount of children around the time of the 74th games are Cutters-By-Blood but became Keepers/volunteers/career tributes for upward social mobility. I am very interested to know, since you are a D2 historian, if you used any real-world historical examples to develop these ideas, and if so I would love to know what they were. 

I really really love your work! It is so interesting to see an entirely different take on the state I grew up in, as CO has definitely outgrown its mining/ranching originations. I’m always just happy to see different interpretations of Neo-North American culture represented in Panem, and you do a truly fantastic job representing that!

Writing this while watching TBOSAS was a religious experience. I know Sejanus always Said His Stones and Snow is not deserving of a Home Name. I’m going to respond to this by writing out the responses under certain segments so that it’s clear which part I’m talking about. This is also as always stupid long, so I'll just write it under the cut.

The line: “The southern desert folk and their blunt nature, entrenched in tradition that mirrors what it was before. The northern mountain people and their river sweet ways, creating new rituals after living so close to their invaded neighbors.” was just SO GOOD. And I really like how you managed to keep the aspects of pride prevalent in the culture of D2, but made sure to separate the pride of the Cutters and their cultural traditions from the pride of those more influenced by propaganda in D2. (Also… If you ever were to write on ao3, I would absolutely devour your fics. I’m still reading through Snowfall Upon Sophroniscus on Tumblr, so I may need to pick your brains on that once I finish, but I had to talk to you abt your amazing D2 lore first). 

I really like that you love that line! It was such a quick thing I put together, already knowing that I wanted a geographical cultural distinction but have that be the case because of the war. Those cultural personal markers (blunt v sweet) was already how I pictured those two, but I knew that I wanted their cultural traditions to differ in certain aspects because geography shapes culture. I was also sure that I wanted to separate the Cutters pride and the Keepers pride by being communal vs individualistic. To quote me (teehee): “Where the masons took pride in their work, the weapons manufacturers took pride in the Capitol's adoration.”

Another quote as a segue: “The Keepers: soldiers—the common grunt and almost unheard of 2 born general.” This really struck me, especially because of the very obvious profiling shown in TBOSAS with the officer candidate test and Coriolanus saying that the other cadets can’t read so he had an advantage. Of course, one of D2’s primary industries is peacekeeping, but I can’t imagine the Capitol would be happy putting any district people in a place of power after the first rebellion. (Since I’m into D13, I think that they have officers and did before the dark days which kind of served as a warning to the Capitol not to have that happen again). 

So I when I wrote this line, I was thinking of this in two aspects:

“Hope”

Proximity to power/whiteness under assimilation

 I put hope in quotes like that because it’s different to the one mentioned throughout the series. I see it as a false hope, where those of 2 who do have access to power have already had it from the start in some facet (ie: Born-and-Bred Keepers) v a Cutter who will never have that access unless they reject their culture and thus become an oppressor to gain power/wealth/security, etc. (for just reason or not). With that annexing of culture to gain that power, it further distances those Cutters from their community, with a mutual betrayal and that feeling of never fitting in with the other Keepers who will forever see them as less than.

Notice how I say “gain” and not “earn” because it’s always going to be something that is already accessible v something fought for, but ultimately pretty unreachable. Gain is closer linked to growth whereas earn is closer linked to achievement and winning, and while there is achievement in accessing the power that being a Keeper brings you, it will never been seen as deserved among either community. And community is essential to the people of 2. I’m not saying that to force this into my lore, we can see it clear as day in the first book with Cato and Clove.

I knew that I still wanted to have it be a possibility and even success of someone from 2 being in such a high position of power because of that hope, but I also knew that whoever it is, they’d probably be a white man. Having soldiers and some higher ups be people of color work because of the way the propaganda works, but having the higher positions of power still being held by white men still continues the idea of power=whiteness and a proximity to whiteness will always be seen as powerful.

Now onto the post about religion in Panem, and the concept of “Saying Your Stones”. I thought this was such a wonderful tradition, and again you have a real talent for creating meaningful (and canon, imo) cultural traditions. I’m interested in the fact that the practice changed after the war from something one did by themselves to a community focused event. It was in an effort to create more ties to the community, yes, but was there any other reason? Was it a form of cultural resistance? I’d also LOVE to know your thoughts on what those who moved from the Capitol to Two as officers thought about D2 cultural traditions and what their efforts were to suppress them!

I always knew that I wanted something to mark the change of culture that comes with war, particularly a war lost among those who have these cultural traditions. You’re right in it creating more ties to the community and that there were more reasons behind it. I highlight this a bit with the Sophro Trio and how with each new generation slowly looses their culture, an inversion of what is it by Katniss’ time. And it was always going to be a form of resistance because of the power of the community, the population of the community. There is no way to force them to stop completely, it will always find a way to survive. But The Capitol knows that, they know that by destroying both community and culture it will not make their slaves susceptible to whatever propaganda they inflict upon them. There needs to be hope, and culture and traditions bring that. It also was a way to make sure that only the tradition survives (not thrives!!!), but is understood and properly practiced. Which means that by having it be more openly practiced, it eventually leads to it being open to bastardization by the oppressors. It’s a vicious cycle.

With those Capitol officials who go to 2: yes, there is oppression of community in the power they hold, but there was more ridicule than an overall attempt to end the practices. I’d like to think of it as to how Snow thought of the bread tradition, as foolish and a waste of food. Those Capitol officers would see these hordes of people basically praying to rocks and think of them as fools with no self-identity, seeing how the Stones are seen as that person, where they are a marker of personhood and personality rather than who they “really are.”

Now, the FIRST SONG! You have truly rewired my brain here. It sounds very “traditional”, I’m not sure how else to say it. I guess what I mean is authentic. My favorite verse has got to be this one: And in come new folk, bold and strong No hammer or pickaxe Just guns and armor, waving banners of country flag Ain’t got no space to hold ‘em, but they make space themselves Takin’ our homes, our pride, our love, our work They don’t do much in mountain-land ‘sides work us to the bone I think you hit the nail on the head when it came to the opinions of the Cutters on the new coming peacekeepers. I appreciate that you think there is a genuine physical divide between the Keepers and the Cutters, because I think that may be the only way that the Capitol could prevent riots and constant class tension between the industries. Also an excellent critique on the Capitol's imperialism.

Fun fact: I almost cut that entire segment out completely! I originally was going to have it be from “keep our kin close at hand” to “make my people proud” up until the end with “someday when we are free” and have that be the end. But I realized that because I have my running theme of D2 songs being historical, I needed a verse to be more present and angry at the change in their district, in an effort to show how much has changed by the time it’s sung throughout the years! And I love this verse! There’s a part of me that wants there to a mixed of forced physical community among the Cutters and the Keepers to show how much of an invading presence they are and how it’s said in Mockingjay that many stonecutter working locations like the mine and quarries shifted into housing and training spaces for the Keepers. But another part of me knows that by keeping them separated would not only be consistent with othering each group against the other.

All in all, I am so glad I read your explanations regarding the development of the class divide in D2, because it is something I have been very interested in ever since I re-read Mockingjay. The work that you have put in here is very impressive, and very realistic when it came to the shift in attitude over time, and how a decent amount of children around the time of the 74th games are Cutters-By-Blood but became Keepers/volunteers/career tributes for upward social mobility. I am very interested to know, since you are a D2 historian, if you used any real-world historical examples to develop these ideas, and if so I would love to know what they were.

Here’s the thing. I have been thinking about this story for 11 years. It has been a part of my being for a very long time, regardless of me publicizing it. And because it has been with me for so long, I’ve definitely taken bits and pieces of my life and certain cultural aspects and imbedded it into the story as time has gone on. But it’s all really been a subconscious decision, I don’t realize I’ve done that until well after the fact (I do have a literal processing disorder, so that tracks). I can say that to my knowledge, I haven’t taken real historical examples and developed them into something. However, I have definitely taken certain cultural aspects of my life or my loved ones life with me and put that in. So like how Saying Your Stones has transferred from being individual to communal, I inverted that from my own personal life of having grown up in saying my late-night prayers with my grandparents to now only saying it on occasion. For Home Names, I think of that as how one of my Tia’s always gave us nicknames that have stuck the test of time and is used among family. Even the death tradition of The Rock, I can always attribute to tracing my grandfathers name on his tombstone when I went to go visit him on my second to last trip to El Salvador, and only returned 15 years later, last year! So no, I don’t base it in history unless it’s going to be some physical thing (like stone associations with onyx, for example), I base it on parts of my life that I’ve lost and don’t want to regain but remember.

[hes-striker]

Another issue comes to mind what if Stella or crimson find out? Crimson isn’t father of the year and Stella is a power hungry vindictive woman .

Striker: *crosses his arms, expression hardening* If they come sniffin’ around, thinkin’ they can make a move on me or my kids, I’ll make ‘em regret it. Stella’s a real piece of work, but I ain’t exactly defenseless. And Crimson? He can try, but he’ll be dealin’ with more than he bargained for *pauses, giving a dark smirk* They want a fight, they’ll get one.

Just then, Striker’s phone buzzes with an unknown number. He glances at it, suspicious, but after a second of thought, he answers.

Stella: *Her voice is as sharp as ever* Striker, darling. I have a job for you. A well-paying one, if you can still hold a gun.

Striker: *leans back, scowling* Yeah? And who exactly do you want me to kill this time, princess?

Stella: *her tone icy and unamused* I think you know. Stolas. Once the divorce is official, he’ll be defenseless. I want him taken care of immediately.

Striker grits his teeth. Taking a job like that right now isn’t an option, but he knows Stella’s not one to handle rejection well.

Striker: *trying to keep his voice level* Sorry, but I’m outta commission for a while. You’ll have to find someone else.

Stella: *her voice turns deadly, full of irritation* Excuse me? Since when does a imp say no? Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?

Striker: *biting back his irritation* I’m not in any shape for a job, especially one this… high profile. I got my reasons.

Stella: *coldly furious* Your “reasons” don’t interest me. I’m not asking, Striker. You will do this, or you’ll find out what happens to those who cross me.

Striker lets out a low, frustrated breath, realizing there’s no way to get Stella off his back without agreeing. He leans against the wall, fingers twitching against the phone as he responds.

Striker: *through gritted teeth* Fine, I’ll take the job. But I’m doin' it my way, on my timeline. You hear me?

Stella: *with a smug smile in her voice* That’s more like it. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done. You’ll be well-compensated for your… *pauses, voice dripping with disdain* troubles.

She hangs up abruptly, leaving Striker to stare down at the phone, cursing under his breath. He knows the risks, and with the twins on the way, this is the last thing he needs. But he can’t shake the feeling that refusing would only put a bigger target on his back.

[lexijaynex]

🦩DAY 16 (9/28/23)🎀

Okay! I’m online, I logged in at 1:43p, got my first private and he did a decent show! I’m doing it from the bed and it’s nice, I think I’m liking it. Idk, it’s definitely bringing out the more sensual side of myself lol. Anywho I’m 18 minutes in at $21, so hopefully it’s fast like this!

————————

Alright I’m 1hr 22mins in and I’m seeing the BS lol. It’s 277 ebonies online so it’s slowing down, and I’m getting a lot of raunchy people! Lol like i didn’t know people got down this bad in the afternoon, but as long as they’re paying I don’t care, but chile they ain’t payin, so they gettin the block!

I had one dude want a*al from me in private chat, which is fine, both of my chats cost the same ($9.99, which I think I’m gonna put my private back to $11.99, because I’m getting more of those in and out folks. Idk how I feel about it yet tho, because I really don’t even have to do much, and I still get coin so idk), but he wanted a*al in the first minute. I didn’t even feel like explaining because it’s written on my profile how I move through a show like that, I just blocked him. I said like, “well since you can’t read I’ma help you out,” and blocked him. It was just the way he requested it, he was just very rude. All money ain’t good money, and I don’t take money from everyone. It may be bad for my business, but if you’re not adult enough to show me an ounce of respect, I have no respect for you or your money. Even though people are paying, I just don’t feel like I have to accept just any ol’ kind of fonky ass treatment, I will take your money and block you. Grow up and treat people right. Get a new account and act right; come back with some BS you get blocked again. Like I’m very low tolerance, even in my personal life, I just don’t feel like I have to deal with anyone who treats me poorly.

Also there were so many guys coming in and writing like Watt-pad paragraphs. I didn’t even read them, I just blocked them or was like “sounds cool,” if they talked about a show, but then they’d just leave because they wanted me to indulge them more. Maybe it’s a flaw I have to fix, but I’m just like a “get to the point,” type of person. I’m not reading your scenarios and responding to your fantasies…you’re getting off on me for free. Or the little tricks like “let me see your outfit,” or “can I see your legs,” like come on lol. I have presets or the block button to deal with that. Now don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t make me mad or anything, it actually concerns me, because how many girls are just entertaining this BS for free, thinking they’re gonna get a show out of it? And I’m only so confident in my ways because I’ve been there, done that. Inside the club and online, they pull the same Tom foolery every time. Like sure flirt a little, laugh, respond, that’s perfectly fine, but I’m not giving it all away. I’ve indulged many customers that way, then they’d think we were friends or got too comfortable and stopped paying me. You have to command the money, or they get lost in the sauce, and then you’ve wasted your time. Just be careful :)

Anyways it’s moving slow and I have some errands to run before I leave my staycation. When I get back, I’ll go ahead and cam, probably late night until payout, so that will be up tomorrow!!

Thanks for reading! 💕

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Fanboy

Summary: The reader’s been secretly writing Dean Winchester fanfiction without her fiance, Jensen, knowing. But maybe it wasn’t the secret she thought it was...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, nudity

A/N: Please enjoy!

_____

“Sweetness,” called Jensen from the kitchen, your eyes darting up over the top of your computer screen. “Dinner’s done if you’d like to take a break from your story.”

“Smells delicious,” you said, leaving your computer behind, Jensen already placing one plate full of food down at your usual counter spot, dishing up some pasta on his own plate. “Mmm looks good.”

“I think I made too much so there should be plenty of leftovers,” he said, taking a seat next to you. “So what kind of story are you writing?”

“Still the one about the mechanic guy and he meets the teacher girl. They just had their first big fight,” you said, twirling your fork and plucking away a massive wad of linguine. 

“Are you ever going to let me read your stories?” he teased. 

“Sure. If I die first, then you can read them,” you said.

“I bet they’re way better than you say they are. You write all the time. You gotta have dozens and dozens of novels written by now,” he said. 

“Oh I just do it for fun. Then it’d become like a job you know? I already got one of those,” you said.

“Maybe as a little present for me?” he said, batting his eyes. “Pretty please?”

“I don’t know,” you said, taking another big bite. There weren’t many things you kept from your fiance and all of them small and insignificant. The fact you wrote Dean Winchester fanfiction regularly was one of them. 

A part of you well and truly just didn’t want him to know you wrote fanfiction, let alone for the character he used to play for years. It really was just for fun, a hobby. 

“Well only if you want to,” he said. “You like the mushrooms in the sauce?”

“Yeah. Goes with the spinach,” you said, taking another bite, slurping and glancing to your left, some sauce on his face. “I picked up some of those bath salts you like and made a little spa basket for you.”

“Aw thank you, honey. I’m going to take you up on that after dinner,” he said. He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Voice acting should not be so exhausting.”

“Being Batman ain’t easy babe,” you said with a smile. 

“At least I don’t have to do a million squats,” he chuckled. 

“Still not sure if you’re doing more?” you asked, squeezing his bicep. He smirked, making a show of flexing his muscles. “Can we keep these even if you don’t?”

“Oh because I was a wimp before,” he said, throwing his arm over your shoulders. 

“I like every version of you.” You leaned your head back, humming while you are. 

“We’ll keep the muscles for now. Who knows what’ll happen with that job,” he said, shoveling some pasta into his mouth. “Want to join me in that bath?”

“You enjoy it honey, take some me time.”

“Okay but then naked cuddles in bed?”

“Yes please,” you said. You shared a kiss, going back to dinner, Jensen popping upstairs when you were finished. You heard the water run for a few minutes before shutting off, the last pan being dried off and put away.

You went back to your computer, writing a little more and heading over to your inbox when you saw a notification.

“You again.” You read through the comment. It was nice, detailed, and supportive. They called themself Impala67, a nice little play on Dean’s dating profile name in one of the later seasons. You wrote out a response and posted it, Jensen’s phone lighting up on the end of the couch out of the corner of your eye.

You crawled over and went wide eyed, quickly unlocking his phone and tapping on the notification.

“Oh my god,” you said, the app opened as you saw the activity feed. “You’re Impala67!”

You rushed upstairs, Jensen with his nose in the water of the bathtub and blowing bubbles, poking them with his fingers.

“You’re Impala67!” He let out some sort of ungodly sound and sat up, hacking water, leaning over the side of the bath for a moment. You stared at him, Jensen slipping down, only peeking his eyes over the edge at you.

“Maybe,” he squeaked out, blinking a few times. You put a hand on your head, Jensen batting his pretty eyelashes. “I saw your computer open and…wanted to read what you wrote and be supportive and encouraging.”

“It’s Dean Winchester fanfic!”

“I know and I like it! I really like your reader characters. You write so well and I read your stories when I travel or am on breaks and I just really wanted to be able to tell you that without…making you feel embarrassed. I figured that’s why you never said anything in the first place.” 

You walked over to the tub and knelt down, Jensen sitting up some, water dripping off his nose.

“You don’t think it’s pathetic?” He frowned, reaching out to cup your cheek.

“No. Not at all, honey. I run around and play pretend for a living. I love stories and I love that you are writing these stories for Dean. It’s amazing to get to see what you come up with whether he’s a mechanic or a firefighter or just normal Dean having a night in the bunker. I love those little snippets of his life, how you carry Dean over into these normal situations and crazy situations. It’s like getting new storylines all over and I think it’s amazing. I really like him getting a girlfriend too and all of that since the show never went there too much. I think it’s awesome, not pathetic.” You smiled, Jensen booping your nose before ducking his arm back in the hot water.

“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?” you asked.

“Nope. You weren’t keeping it a secret. You wrote in front of me all the time. I just didn’t know the character’s name. But I would like to maybe read more openly and you can write more openly?” he asked.

“I’ll have to show you a sneak peek of what I’ve already got written.” 

“Please do,” he said. You got up, Jensen sinking lower into the tub. “Sure you don’t want to join me?”

“No, this is your me time. Also…please tell me you do not go anywhere else on Tumblr.”

“Nope. I’m crazy, not that crazy,” he chuckled. You ruffled his wet hair and hummed.

“I’ll be in bed. You owe me a naked cuddle if I recall.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said, dipping his head under the water, smiling as you waggled a few fingers and left before the heat could escape the room.

“So what’s endverse Dean? I never understood that one,” said Jensen a short while later in bed, both of you laying in bed under the covers, Jensen holding your hand up with his, playing with it in the air above you.

“You know that episode where Dean went to the future and it was all apocalyptic? The one you had to play two versions of yourself? It’s that version of Dean. Thigh holster Dean.”

“Oh. Gotcha. He was kinda a dick.”

“Yes but people like to read about the guy with the hard shell of an exterior that is all soft and sweet on the inside.” He chuckled, bending your arm down, pulling it under the covers and across his chest, wrapping it around himself. “They do!”

“I’m well aware of the cliche. Just find it funny. Endverse. Why not croatoan verse or resistance group Dean or something like that.”

“You don’t get to choose the naming conventions in fandom. Fandom chooses them and you go with it,” you laughed. 

“I was thinking about reading that one with the smut list-”

“Oh no, please, please don’t read that,” you said, hiding your face under the covers.

“Well I’ve read your smut already and it’s very nice. I too imagine Dean has an oral fixation,” he chuckled.

“I wonder who he got that from,” you deadpanned, flipping the covers back. He giggled, resting his head on your shoulder. “You really, really shouldn’t read that stuff. I mean I’ve written stuff…stuff that’s bad, like real bad.”

“I found it fun, especially when I was stuck in Canada filming away for months.” He winked and you shook your head. “Oh come on, it’s like personalized erotica for me. I missed you. What’d you expect?”

“I’m gonna send you my fluff list. You stay there with the nice stuff.”

“I like all of it,” he hummed. “Gonna branch out and write some of you know who? Handsome devil, amazing cuddler?”

“God no,” you said, slipping over and tossing your leg over his body, sitting up and straddling him, Jensen smiling softly at you. “I’m keeping my fanboy all to myself.”

“Lucky me. Very lucky me.”

________

[queenxxxsupreme]

More Take Than Give (Arthur Morgan x reader)

A/N: hi! sorry for my absense! i got busy with a few things and forgot how to write :)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: a bit angsty, some fluff

Summary: After Blackwater, things are only getting more strained between you and Arthur. 

***

The sound of floorboards creaking pulled you from your sleep. 

You brought your hand up to rub your eyes. You glanced over to the curtains, curious to know if it was morning yet. Calling them curtains was an overstatement. They were really just sheets you and Abigail had pinned up with some nails. 

Through a crack in the makeshift curtain, you could see a blue sky. The sun had yet to rise. 

You reached out for Arthur, hoping that by some chance you’d find his warm body next to you. But just as you expected, he was gone. It was a rarity to wake up to him still in bed with you. Usually, he was up before the sun, going on runs for Dutch or with someone on a job. 

You turned your head to look around the room. Your eyes caught  Arthur standing by the table between the two windows. He was half way dressed with just his jeans on, and in his hands he held a piece of paper. 

All you could see was his side profile, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see the way he seemed to scowl at the paper. 

“Whatcha readin’?” You asked after watching him for a few moments. 

He turned his head to meet your gaze, offering you a soft smile as he took in your sleepy morning look. Your hair was a mess, the braid it had been in was long gone and the strap to your chemise was falling off of your shoulder. 

“Just a note.” He folded the paper up and put it back down on the table. “Dutch has plans for me and Micah.”

As Arthur moved towards the bed, you rolled over on to your back, eyes following him. He propped one knee up on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on either side of the bed by your head. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. His scruff created a pleasant scratchy burn on your skin as he kissed you. 

“Good mornin’, pumpkin.”

“Mmmhm.” You hummed softly, slipping your arms around his shoulders. You did your best to tug him down to you, but he resisted, using his knee to keep himself from collapsing on to you. 

“Easy there. We don’t need you startin’ something that’ll get both of us into trouble.”

“Can’t you just wait a few minutes?” You frowned. You let him go and watched as he took a few steps away from the bed. He placed his hands on his belt, eyes finding yours. “Just lay here with me. We aren’t usually in camp together most mornings, Arthur.”

“There’s good reason for that.” He chuckled softly, turning to go to one of the windows. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I’d never get outta bed if it were that way.”

You smiled. 

“What’s his plan for you and Micah?”

“Not sure. He wants me to meet up with Micah. Note said Micah will have the rest of the information.”

“I don’t want you goin’ out with Micah.” You sat up, pulling your chemise strap into place. 

“I don’t got much of a choice, pumpkin.”

You stood up from the bed and went over to where a broken mirror hung up on the wall. You raked your fingers through your hair and began to braid it back. 

“Y/N, I don’t got a choice–,”

“I know, Arthur.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

You shook your head softly. 

“Because sometimes…. Sometimes I’d like to have a day to forget.”

Arthur let out a soft sigh. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, running his hand over his face. 

“A day for us.”

“I know. I know.” He nodded. “I’ll see if I can figure somethin’ out. But with the Pinkertons and Dutch–,”

“I know.” You finished the braid and turned to face him. “I know.”

He looked up at you. 

“If you know, then why are you gettin’ so upset?”

“I’m allowed to be upset, Arthur.” You moved across the room to sit on the bed next to him. You tucked one leg underneath yourself and faced him. “I’m allowed to be upset that we don’t get the things we want. This is the first time in a long time that we’ve had privacy away from everyone and we haven’t even gotten time to ourselves.”

“I know.” He slipped his hand around the back of your head and pulled you closer to him so that he could kiss your head. “But we will in due time, pumpkin. Things are just…. up in the air right now.”

“I know.”

“Arthur!” Someone called from downstairs. 

“That’s Susan.” He muttered, standing to his feet. He made his way to the door so he could poke his head. “I’ll be down in just a second, Mrs. Grimshaw!”

“You better!”

Arthur closed the door and turned back to face you. You had gotten up from the bed to get a shirt for him. 

“Duty calls, Mr. Morgan.” You held the shirt open for him. 

“Hey.” He frowned, taking the shirt from you and placing it aside. “Don’t get that tone with me.”

“I don’t have a tone.”

“Yes, you do.” Arthur placed two fingers underneath your chin and tilted your head up. “You are my number one priority, you know that?”

You said nothing as you gazed up at him. When he said nothing else, you grabbed the shirt and held it open for him. 

“You best finish getting dressed. Don’t need Mrs. Grimshaw coming up here.”

He slipped one arm carefully through each sleeve, momentarily turning his back to you. But then he was facing you, blue eyes intensely staring down at you. 

You tried to look down so you could button up his shirt but he held your chin a little more firmly between his thumb and index. 

“You know that, don’t you?” His thumb ghosted over your skin. His brows drew together ever so slightly. 

“Sometimes it don’t feel like it.” You admitted softly. “They call for you. You go. They need something from you, anything from you, and you give it to them. They need you to run out for them, you’ll do it. Whether it’s across town or across the damn country, you’ll drop everything and do it. If they asked for the shirt off your back, you’d give it to them. You…. You’re too good of a man for those folks, Arthur Morgan.”

“Well, clearly I ain’t that good of a man if my lady doesn’t think she’s important to me.” He let his hand fall from you and took a step back.

“Arthur.” You reached out to take his hand. “I know I am important to you. But you don’t…. don’t think about yourself first. So that means you come to bed late and sometimes I never see you.”

“I’ve got to take care of these people, Y/N. Of the girls and John and his family–,”

“I know you do.” You murmured, nodding your head. “But who is going to take care of them if you run yourself into the ground?”

Arthur said nothing. 

You turned to go back to the bed. 

“It’s still early. I’m going to get some sleep.” Your words were quiet, but he heard you anyway. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. You’d probably get up just after he left and go down to one of the fires for coffee. But right now, you didn’t want to keep fighting with him. 

You settled onto the bed with your back to Arthur. 

He let out a breath through his nose as he buttoned up his shirt. 

He moved to kneel down by the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your arm. 

“I love you, pumpkin.” 

You felt him kiss the back of your head. 

You placed your hand over his that rested on your arm. 

“I got a bad feelin’ about whatever Dutch is plannin’. I’m not…. I’m not sure what’s goin’ on in his head, but I’ve gotta make sure the girls, Hosea, and John and his family are okay.”

“Love you too, bear.” You squeezed his fingers. “Be safe.”

He smiled softly before standing up and moving towards the door. On his way out, he picked up his hat that rested on the table.

Taglist:  @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @antoinette-2131  @micahs-bird

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

[poguesofthebau]

paranoia

summary: meeting dylan einstein, a genius forensic scientist from indianapolis, musters up some unknown insecurities about your relationship with reid. however, morgan-- and reid, once he figures it out-- isn’t willing to let you think that way. warnings: mentions of bombings (as pertaining to the case)

word count: 3k pairing: spencer reid x female!bau!reader

a/n: set in season 10, episode 14, this one was requested by @koc-help! as per usual, it took me forever to write, so i hope you can forgive me for that and enjoy what i came up with!! 

bombing cases were stressful. it always seemed harder for you; figuring out a motive, pushing down the overwhelming sympathy for the victims, convincing yourself that all of your team members were safe. because of your unshakable paranoia in the wake of those cases, you were already on edge by the time the team was boarding the jet to indianapolis. and, of course, spencer caught on to the way you were feeling almost immediately.

with the limited information the team had at that point, conversation about the case was reasonably brief. the file was reviewed and discussed, and hotch delegated a role for everyone to take when the jet landed. when the conversation came to a lull, you slid out of your seat, tossing the manilla folder onto the leather before moving to the back of the jet to make a cup of coffee. jj and derek’s voices were audible as they continued to spitball off of each other, masking the sound of spencer approaching where you stood. “hey,” he called to you as he neared. having been enveloped in the chatter your other friends were creating, you jumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. when you looked up at him, his eyebrows were raised in concern at your reaction, immediately making you recoil into yourself. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathed, pulling the coffee pot out of its place to pour the liquid into your empty cup. “i’m fine.”

“that’s not very convincing, you know.” you turned to face him then, sighing and internally shaking the dread away. “what is it?”

“i’m not a huge fan of bombings,” you said sarcastically. spencer scoffed a laugh at that, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as you continued with a bit more seriousness. “just a little worried. it’s nothing, spence.”

“i’m not used to seeing you worried in this way. are you sure you’re okay? i mean, do you want to talk about it?”

the soft-spoken concern in spencer’s tone along with the expression he was looking at you with warmed your heart. if there was one thing that could take your mind off of a murderous bomber, it was spencer. your eyes flickered over to the rest of the team, making sure no one was paying any attention to you and your boyfriend huddled up in the back of the jet, before you leaned up and pressed your mouth to spencer’s. the kiss was quick, but it was also just the reassurance that you both needed. “i promise, i’ll tell you if i need to talk. for now, i just want to get this son of a bitch and go back home.”

being present for the disarming of the second bomb only worsened your initial paranoia. the thought of an explosive device made you anxious enough; having to stand your ground and comfort an intended victim while a bomb was armed less than a foot from you was a whole new feeling. you trusted morgan to clip a wire without killing you, but the adrenaline in the heat of the moment was hard to shake. it had been a few hours since the scene had unfolded, but you still felt like your heart could possibly jump out of your chest at any moment the morning after the disarming. despite the underlying terror running through your veins, you were critically analyzing everything going on around you. your focus was completely dedicated to the case unfolding around you, because the sooner you cracked it, the sooner your thinly veiled fear would dissipate.

you were digging around in the bed of the pickup truck while einstein, the local forensic scientist, examined the bomb itself. out of your peripherals you saw reid and morgan approaching, but the bulk of your energy was going into analyzing the scene as best you could. your boyfriend’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds as he neared, immediately gauging the nerves you were trying so hard to conceal. reid made a mental note to address that as soon as he could get you alone, but fought the urge to do so right then. spencer knew you well enough to know that, no matter how freaked out you currently were, your mind was concentrating on the scene before you, and anything else would simply be considered a distraction. he swallowed down the lump in his throat that formed at the thought of not being able to help you before tuning in to the comment einstein began to make. “he really went for a bigger boom this time.”

the short conversation that ensued between the two following that comment was something that shouldn’t have bothered you. you knew it meant nothing; reid wasn’t the only genius in the world who memorized excerpts from anarchy cookbooks or mathematical theories. just because some young, brilliant, beautiful girl knew the same book as spencer didn’t mean you had anything to worry about.

nonetheless, you became very worried about it.

you strolled around to the passenger side of the truck, sliding into the empty seat with a quizzical look on your face. “you know, it’s a wonder that he even realized he triggered the bomb.”

opening the driver’s side door as he spoke, reid slid into the truck next to you. “maybe he heard something when he stepped on the pedal.”

“and knew not to move? i mean, what’s this guy got, an ex-paramilitary background we don’t know about?”

the back and forth continued a few more times, and within a minute you and reid had developed the idea that allen archer, the bomb’s target, could potentially be your unsub. upon this conclusion, einstein spoke up again. “that’s what you guys do. you just talk a lot.” her voice was joking as the words left her lips, and a bright smile graced her face as she spoke. regardless of the playful tone you immediately identified, the words triggered something in you.

“well, there’s also a lot of kicking down doors involved,” morgan interjected from outside the passenger door, shaking you out of your internally-mortified state. you watched as einstein announced her departure then, mustering up a measly close-lipped smile in return to the courteous and friendly glance she offered you before leaving.

as she walked away, her words repeated in your mind. it was so simple for her to summarize; you just talk a lot. a woman so young and so intelligent had just condensed your entire career into a five-word sentence so simple that you couldn’t even disagree. was that truly all you were capable of? talking? bouncing ideas off of your coworkers’ ideas and hoping you’d end up catching the killer that way?

you spent the rest of the day arguing with yourself. in all honesty, your own inner monologue was starting to get on your nerves. despite your most sincere attempts to focus on the case in front of you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that  einstein was right. and maybe she was-- maybe your job was nothing compared to hers, and maybe she was a better match for spencer than you could ever dream of being.

this new uncertainty of your career and relationship definitely didn’t help to settle your previously established fear of being blown up at any given moment.

given the circumstances, it was only a matter of time until someone on your team noticed how uneasy you were steadily growing. they knew you. you were y/n-- sometimes stubborn, oftentimes overprotective, and always capable. sure, you had off days at work, just like everyone else. you weren’t always the one to solve the case, but you were always present and attentive, engaged in the investigation with your mind and body. however, right now, your mind was in two places at once. for that reason, you weren’t surprised in the slightest when morgan approached you at the station.

as you walked toward the conference room to find hotch, you were stopped by the familiar voice calling out. “hey, hold on little lady.”

“what’s up, morgan?”

morgan shook his head at that, a knowing look crossing his features as he began to speak. “nuh-uh. what up with you, y/l/n?” you threw him a falsely quizzical look, trying (and failing) to get him off your back by playing dumb. sadly for you, morgan was too good of a profiler and friend to fall for it. “don’t play with me, girl. i know cases like this always get to you a little, but i also know how badass you are. normally you would’ve bounced back from our brush with death by now, so what’s the problem?”

you squinted at him as your face morphed into dismay. of course you couldn’t fool morgan. your mind flickered to penelope, suddenly relating to one of her more commonly made complaints: damn profilers. “my first problem is that you might know me a little too well.” derek scoffed at that, waiting for you to continue. “my second problem? well, my second problem might be that i’m not smart enough, or maybe that spencer is too good for me, or maybe that our job is too easy, or maybe--”

“woah, woah, woah. slow your roll, little missy. ‘spencer is too good for me?’ where’s that coming from?” you blinked slowly in response, not quite willing to give up any more information than you already had. “fine-- i’ll figure it out myself. let’s see: you’ve been acting weird since we got this case, but that’s not what this is about. i’ve seen you on bombing cases before, and this ain’t that. so... oh, i know. is this about a forensic scientist, maybe? maybe one who has the same name as a very smart, very famous--”

“okay, morgan. i get it. you’re a great profiler, and you know my thoughts better than i do. that doesn’t really change the way i’m feeling right now.” your tone was a little sharp, but the look in your eyes was a mixture of sadness and contempt. “and, in case you needed me to put it simply, i’m feeling like shit.”

a look of pity overtook morgan for a moment. he knew what you were going through. sure, he wasn’t dating a genius with an iq of 187, but he knew how it felt to doubt yourself, and especially how it felt to feel belittled for your work. “y/n,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching a little to get on eye-level with you. “don’t do that to yourself, kid. don’t forget how hard what we do is, and how important it is. you save lives every day. no matter how you do it, or how much brainpower it takes, there are people all around this world who are alive because of your work. whether they admit it or not, everyone has respect for that. especially our resident pretty boy.”

“i know, morgan,” you sighed. his hands slid from your shoulders as you finally gave in, looking him straight in the eye as you spoke. “sometimes it just feels like he deserves better.”

“just because it feels that way doesn’t mean it’s true. and i can promise you, reid has never felt that way. not about you.” after giving a comforting pat on the arm to go along with his final words, morgan was walking away.

damn profilers, you thought again. why are we always right?

before you got the chance to speak with reid, the team was off again. instead of splitting up this time, you were simply spreading out; hotch and rossi were scouring the crowd of civilians and news crews at the staged ceremony for allen archer, and the rest of you were divided into two suvs with morgan and kate in one and you, jj, and spencer in the other. your talk with morgan had lifted your spirits a bit, but there was still a tightness in the air as you sat beside your seemingly clueless boyfriend.

unbeknownst to you, spencer wasn’t all that clueless. not only had he caught on to your behavior long before anyone else on the team, but he’d also spotted you and morgan’s secretive moment from across the police station. (and, yes, morgan may have whispered “check on your girl” to spencer when you weren’t paying attention. he just wanted to help.) so, while you thought he was in the dark about your current insecurities, reid was very much aware of what was going on in your head. as much as he hated it, though, he was hesitant to acknowledge it with jj in the backseat and the rest of the team on comms. so, like the considerate boyfriend he was, he waited.

it wasn’t until you got back to the police station that spencer got the chance to catch you alone. everyone else was busy preparing to leave for the jet, the bustle of having solved yet another case causing an uplifting distraction for the team. while your friends were distracted, spencer grabbed you by the hand and pulled you into a nearby empty conference room. the surprise on your face was evident when he looked at you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you laughed nervously at his expression, not completely sure what he had taken you aside for. “hi, spence. you okay?”

“i was actually going to ask you the same thing,” he admitted. “except, i already asked you that once during this case, and you weren’t very willing to share, so i was going to approach it in a more insistent way.” although you were amused by this mysterious behavior of his, you were still confused about what exactly spencer was implying that he knew. “did you really think i wouldn’t notice that you were upset?”

“no,” you said unconvincingly.

“y/n, why won’t you just talk to me?” the desperation in his voice almost shattered your heart. the whole time that you’d been in your own head, spencer had been in his. all because you were scared to talk to the one person you trusted more than anyone in the world.

“i’m sorry,” you breathed, taking a step toward him. spencer’s right hand slid around your waist once you got close enough, and your forehead dropped onto his chest as you sighed. when you looked back up to him, spencer was already anticipating eye contact. “i’m sorry i didn’t say anything. i just didn’t want to worry you, or to make you feel like you’d done anything wrong, because it’s not your fault, i just-- i don’t ever want to feel like i’m holding you back.”

“holding me back from what? you could never hold me back.”

“i could, though! you’re this amazingly brilliant genius, and there are so many people out there who are so much smarter than me, and i--”

“is that what this is about? you think you’re not smart?” you felt his hand tense from its place on your lower back, his disbelief clear in his voice.

“no, no-- i mean, i know i’m smart enough. but sometimes when we have cases like this we meet some really, really smart people, and i can’t help but wonder if you would be better off with someone on your intellectual level. someone like einstein.”

“y/n,” spencer seemed stunned at this revelation, and you realized then that morgan had been right. the idea of you not being enough had never crossed spencer’s mind. “you are the person that i’m better off with. you. i don’t-- i’ve never even thought of anyone else as a possibility since i met you. there isn’t anyone else. i mean, before i knew you, i wasn’t even sure that i believed in love at all. the only reason that i know it’s real now is because of you. i can’t think of any statistics of mathematical theories or scientific discoveries to explain or defend it, but i have always known that there isn’t anything for me aside from you. i mean that. no matter how smart anyone else is, or how cool anyone else is, or how compatible anyone else’s intellect is with mine. i love you, y/n.”

and, just like that, your fears were gone. your inner monologue went silent, and the serenity that spencer’s words brought you washed over your entire body. spencer’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. his free hand moved to the side of your face, brushing back your hair as he waited for you to reply. the anticipation on his face sent another rush of absolute love through you, and you quickly closed the gap between you. as your mouth met his, your hands found their way to the sides of his neck, slowly wrapping around until they were laced together behind his head. for what could’ve been an hour, you stood there, melting into spencer as his words of reassurance replaced the chants of uncertainty that had filled your head hours prior. you were forced to pull back from him eventually, but even then your hands remained around his neck and the distance between your faces was minimal as you reopened your eyes. “i love you.”

a knock on the door suddenly interrupted the moment, causing you to release each other as a third party entered the room: morgan. “hey, lovebirds,” he grinned. “nice to see that you’re back to normal. it’s time to head home.” you smiled knowingly at the man, lacing your fingers through reid’s as you followed morgan out of the room. grabbing your belongings on the way out, the three of you headed toward your designated suv, where jj was waiting patiently in the driver’s seat. “so, you finally confessed, huh?”

“of course i did,” you laughed. “no secrets in this relationship.”

“yeah, and i would’ve figured it out eventually anyway.” at spencer’s interjection, it was morgan’s turn to laugh.

“oh, yeah, 187?”

“he is a genius, you know,” you added smugly.

“well, apparently so am i, because i figured it out before he did. oh, and by the way, pretty girl, i told you.” and with that, morgan was jogging off (in a fit of giggles) to the suv, hopping in the passenger seat before you had a chance to jokingly scold him.

damn profilers.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

[ 01 : 24 am ]

sweet boyfriend jake is mad because you went to a party without telling him.

warnings: i don’t have much, just a bit of intense starring and some kisses.

a/n: i always think jake is really nice, he’s a legit angel so I’m somehow curious how he is when he’s mad lmao yeah so enjoy 🌸

its one of those rare times that you’re sweet boyfriend, jake, is not smiling. with little steps you move forward to approach him. with the uncomforting silence that occupied the whole room, you can hear your heartbeats pretty clear.

you gulped trying to make yourself calm down. jake is in front of you, sitting at the sofa while crouched forward, both elbow resting over his knee. he had his eyes seriously starring over you. face looking so serious, way far from how he usually is.

“hi, baby.” you even tried to smile widely at him. your lips faltered making it look like your smile is not sincere. well it really isn’t.

you won’t deny the fact that even if your boyfriend is the nicest person you’ve ever met, he’s different whenever he’s pissed.

for your opinion, you think you can’t measure how jake’s patience can extend when it comes to you. he loves you genuinely and you may have been taking advantage of that recently.

“do you know what time is it right now, y/n?” chills ran down over your spine as you hear his cold voice. still with a stern face, he starred over at you.

with one swift move, you moved away some strands of your hair from your face and hang them over your ears. even when you’re currently nervous, you can’t help but to admire jake in front of you. hairs messy making it very obvious that he just went out of the bed while wearing his hoodie and his sweat pants, he screams boyfriend material.

he’s in fact very good looking. one reason why a lot of girls from your university envy you. they don’t stop talking about how lucky you are to have him. it was overwhelming of course, but sometimes it goes out of hand and pisses you off because they seem to like your boyfriend very much. you hated it, because for some reasons, you’ve grown possessive of him.

“uh... 1am?” you acted unsure but you were certain it was around 1 am now.

his eyes grew colder and his stares remains sharp towards you. with one gulp you tried to swallow the small lump that slowly building up between your throat. you’re a bit intimidated by serious jake.

“and you just coming home now? wearing those?” his eyes slowly trails your outfit for last night’s party.

now you regret wearing your quite revealing black dress. with his intense gaze, you knew you can’t response and even reason out.

growing up in a country were revealing clothes ain’t really an issue, jake’s okay with whatever you wears. so hearing him complain on what your wearing is actually new for you. he always admires everything you wear. he never forgets to even compliment you in the sweetest ways.

“i sent you a text telling you that i made a last minute decision that i’ll join my friend’s birthday party.” you put the weight over one of your leg as you slowly started feeling the pain the heels are about to give you.

jake clicked his tongue over at the inside of his left cheek as he tilts his head over to the side. with heated eyes he kept his stares over your exposed thighs. feeling a bit nervous, you tried pulling them down.

“did you receive any text that i agreed?” he fired back.

with a feeling of sting over your feet, you felt a bit annoyed of how he’s reacting right now.

“you were asleep so i knew you won’t reply. what’s the matter? i sent a text.” getting a bit worked up, nervous was now eaten by the pain of your feet. already forgotten about the fact that your boyfriend is mad and is now clenching his jaw in front of you.

“the point is that you went to the party that you told me you won’t go to. i was peacefully sleeping knowing my girl is at her apartment, safe and sound! Then the moment i woke up i saw pictures of you at that party, tagged in your profile!” he seems a bit more mad now that he saw you getting annoyed when you're the one wrong.

feeling a bit stubborn you pouted your lips, “okay fine! then i won’t join any parties anymore!” you almost scream too.

jake never raises his tone at you, but this time, it was a bit higher than usual. he seems to be really mad at you. you can’t help but to feel sad.

you saw how jake pursed his lips and starred at you, now with a bit more softer stares. he sighed heavily and massaged the bridge of his nose. his hand then rested over his knee.

“baby that’s not what I mean.” voice softer. jake gulped and eyed you as your pout became more visible.

he hates what you did but he hates seeing you sad even more. he just loves you so much that he doesn't want you upset.

he scratched the back of his head once, “come here.” his voice is now calm.

you don’t know why but you felt like crying because he’s just too nice. his mood can change in an instant the moment he saw you upset. with eyes stained with a bit tears, you slowly approach him reaching his hand that he lend over to you.

his gaze were still darted over you, this time not looking mad or anything, just pure affection. he guided you over his lap as he slid over his arm around your waist, supporting your weight. one of your arm were placed around his neck.

“even though i don't like parties like that, i didn’t mean that you shouldn’t go to parties anymore.” your eyes stare at him with confusion.

“you don’t like parties?”

he starred for a couple of seconds as you felt his hands gently rubbing over your waist. “i hate it.”

“so you don’t want me to go to parties? i see, you’re very mad a while ago.” you pursed your lips and you fixed his hair because he ran his hand over it.

jake’s eyes shut close by your affection as he tried to calm himself. he thinks you really drink a lot because you obviously didn’t listen to what he just said.

“i just don’t want you in those parties without me.” jake mumbled eyes still intensely eyeing you. you gulped feeling chills ran down over your spine because of jake’s heated stares.

you don’t know if he’s flirting or he's still mad. the dim lights of your apartment just makes it a little bit more harder to tell.

jake didn’t give you the chance to talk as he surprisingly pull your nape to lean you down towards him. with one swift kiss it made a loud smooch sound around the quiet room. you can’t help but to blush.

“i don’t want you wearing this around a lot of people while i’m not around.” he muttered before kissing you over your jaw and his hand other hand rested over your thigh.

“i’m sure a lot of other guys tried their shot over you.” and he gently placed a kiss over your neck. you gulped as blurry memories of some guys approaching you at the parties clouded your mind.

jake noticed your reaction and his jaw clenched. he knew right away. you are always beautiful for his eyes, and it’s not different from other boys too so he was certain some of them tried.

“i didn’t entertain any of them, love.” you assured him. you saw how a ghost of smile appeared for just a quick second at his face.

”oh i’m sure you didn’t.” and dropped another kiss over your kiss.

you gulped again as your eyes trailed his over his hair down to his eyes, then to pointed nose and finally, to his lips. “can i have a kiss?” you asked.

there was a moment of silence before you felt his hand slid below your thigh, the other one over your waist. you shrieked as he suddenly carried you bridal style.

“let’s change you into more comfortable clothes first.” you grunted feeling a bit betrayed and upset not getting a kiss.

main masterlist

[babymetaldoll]

The morning after (Spilling drinks on my settee part 2) Spencer Reid/Reader

Requested: Yes! it’s my first request! thank you, anon!! 

Prompt: Hungover Spencer has to face Reader after she caught him drunk, puking outside her house. He also has to face Morgan’s teasing after he confessed he was in love with Reader.

Pairing: Spencer/Reader 

Warnings: none 

Category: Fluff

Word count: 1,9K 

Part one here

Masterlist 

.

If it had been up to Spencer, he would have never left his bed that day. As soon as he opened his eyes, the headache that hit him made him realize that was going to be a long day. A long and shitty day. 

He sat on his bed slowly ‘cos the whole room was spinning. He was still fully dressed, why? There was puke on his shoes and pants… and a Gatorade on his nightstand? He was confused, he didn’t leave that there, right? no… maybe? he didn’t really remember. Why was he still dressed? he didn’t remember. How did he get home? he didn’t remember

- “Shit!”

Until he did. 

There was a flash of embarrassment, guilt, and nausea on his face, suddenly it was all coming back. 

- “Shit!”

That was the only word Spencer could use. He had gotten drunk, confessed to Morgan he was in love with (Y/N), he had actually tried to…

- “Shit!”

Maybe alcohol had managed to unplug a part of Reid’s brain, ‘cos apparently, “shit” was the only thing he was able to pronounce, at least for a few minutes.  

All the embarrassing memories of the night before kept coming back to his mind, they were fragments of someone else’s life he was watching from outside. It was all too humiliating. (Y/N) saw him puking outside her house. He was outside her house ‘cos he wanted to know why she had been out on a date with a guy from a dating website. He had told Morgan he loved her, and nearly cried. 

Spencer Walter Reid was doomed, and he knew it. It was going to take a lot of courage, patience, and Gatorade to go through that day. 

His cellphone kept buzzing, but once he realized it wasn’t a case, but (Y/N) and Morgan trying to reach him, he ignored it the whole subway ride to work. He couldn’t even read, his brain wasn’t working, he couldn’t concentrate at all. He just wanted to disappear forever. What had he done? how could he ever face (Y/N) after what happened? And what if Morgan had already told everyone what happened? of course he had, Reid thought, and his red cheeks were now purple. 

Humiliation was written across his face and his stomach tightened as he set foot into the bullpen. He took a quick look around and sighed relieved. Apparently, there was no one else there yet, the whole place seemed empty, although there was a fresh cup of coffee with extra sugar on his desk, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles. 

That could only mean one thing. 

- “Hey, how are you feeling this morning?”- Spencer froze in panic and turned around very, very slowly. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure (Y/N) could listen to it. She was waving at him with a shy smile on her face. She didn’t look mad, or uncomfortable. She looked… worried. 

- “H… he… hey, (Y/N)-” he stuttered and waved. He knew he had to say something- anything- but nothing seemed to come to mind. He was literally speechless. 

- “How are you feeling?”

- “G… g… good, I’m good, I’m ok”- Spencer wanted to slap himself. He was humiliated already, but his behavior wasn’t making it any better. He had to put his shit together somehow.

- “I’m glad”- she sighed relieved, rubbing his arm sweetly, and her touch made him shiver right away. He tried to smile at her, but he was left speechless again. It was a painful scene to see. 

- “I was worried sick, you didn’t pick up your phone earlier”- Reid just nodded and looked down.

- “I got you the best recipe to cure your hangover, coffee of course, and I filled half the cup with sugar, just the way you like it”- the way (Y/N) stuck out her tongue and giggled, hypnotized him.

- “I made you a grilled cheese sandwich, I don't know how many times you've woken up feeling like shit after a party, but I'm pretty sure I’ve got a lot more experience than you, and greasy food always helps me coming back to life.”

Spencer nodded, trying to follow the conversation, but his brain was still malfunctioning and his head was pounding sharp and heavy. 

- “And your favorite donut 'cos you need extra sugar”

- “Thanks”- his voice was a sweet whisper. (Y/N) looked at him worried and rubbed a hand on his arm gently again.

- “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck happened last night?”- the painful grimace on Spencer's face was enough.

- “I'm just worried something bad happened to you “

- “No, no, no”- he shook his head frenetically and regretted the movement immediately. His head was killing him- “I just couldn't handle my drinks, that's all.”

- “Are you sure?”- lying to profilers could be the hardest thing on earth.

- “Yeah, yeah”

- “Good, I was worried you were going to call in sick…”- there was a short silence between them, they just stared at each other and sighed. 

(Y/N) couldn’t stop thinking he had called her “Buttercup” and didn’t know how to ask him to do it again, and again, every day. And Reid had no idea what to do next. So he just said the first thing that came to mind.  

- “Did you know hangovers are estimated to cost $148 billion each year due to hangover individuals calling in sick to work or performing poorly on the job.”  

- “Pretty boy!!”

Derek’s voice walking over them made Spencer’s heart stop in fear, he just waved at his friend with his less expressive smile - the one (Y/N) called “frog face”- and just prayed to whatever god that might exist, that Morgan wouldn’t embarrass him more than he was already. 

- “How are you feeling today, kid?”

- “I’m ok, thanks” 

- “You are lucky there’s no case, yet”- Dr. Reid nodded and looked around, trying to find a way to run away from Morgan and (Y/N). 

- “Nice breakfast”

- “I thought he was going to need extra energy today”- the young woman smiled proudly- “And when are you going to explain to me what happened last night? why did you let him get that drunk?”

Morgan knew (Y/N) was going to be mad at him, so he just looked at Spencer and waited to see if he had made up any lie already 

- “I… I told you, I just couldn’t keep up with Derek”

- “Yeah”- his friend immediately supported his lie. Which wasn’t a complete lie- “I pushed Reid to drink at my pace, and I guess pretty boy ain’t ready to drink like a man.”

On a regular day, Spencer would have hated that last comment, ‘cos he was sick and tired of his friend treating him like a toddler. But under those circumstances, he just nodded and tried to stay calm. 

- “And why were you outside my house?” 

- “We were looking for a cab, started walking… and Reid remembered you live close to the bar”- Spencer’s eyes opened wide at those words- “And he wanted to stop by.”

- “No I didn’t”- Reid knew he would lose in a fight with Derek, but he was willing to give it a try and punch him if that successfully stopped him from talking.  

- “Kid, you were drunk, you don’t remember, but you wanted to stop by and see (Y/N)”- the girl looked at Reid and bit her lips

- “Is that so? you got drunk and started thinking of me?”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He felt his hands shaking, so he hid them in his pockets and tried to come up with anything, literally anything to say. But he had nothing.  

- “Yes, pretty boy wanted to see you…”- Morgan just smiled, tapped on Spencer’s back, and walked away chuckling. He knew Reid needed a push to open up to (Y/N). Maybe this was what he needed. 

- “Why did you think of me?”- (Y/N) was now intrigued and excited. Drunk Reid was a whole new side of her friend, and the fact he had dragged Derek to her house when he was intoxicated gave her a little hope. Maybe he liked her too, the way she was head over feet for him.

- “I…”- Spencer was chocking with words, he turned around, grabbed the coffee, and took a sip of it. 

- “You?”

- “I don’t remember”- disappointment was written all over (Y/N)’s face. They just stared. Spencer drank his coffee and the girl simply sighed. 

- “I see”- he could read there was something there, but he didn’t want to get his hopes high. He was sure (Y/N) could never feel the same way he did. Right?

- “Can I ask you something?”- he whispered- “Why didn’t you tell me about the dating website?”

Now (Y/N) was embarrassed. She couldn’t take her eyes from her friend’s as she kept thinking about what to say. How to lie? 

- “It wasn’t important, Prentiss forced me, I didn’t want to do it”- she simply confessed and smiled- “Why?” 

- “I don’t know, it was weird, I thought… well…”

- “You know I tell you everything important”- (Y/N) wanted to make sure Spencer understood that the date had meant nothing. 

- “And… are you planning to do it again?”

- “Never”- the smile on her lips was so honest, Spencer’s heart was relieved- “So, tomorrow’s Saturday, got any plan?”- those words, they were music for his ears. 

- “Actually, there is a Russian horror movie festival tomorrow night, they’ll be showing Solaris, Viy, and Lyumi”

- “Original Russian, I presume”

- “But this time I’m pretty sure there will be subtitles”- (Y/N) pouted disappointed.

- “Bummer, I like when you have to translate the whole movie for me”- and she meant it, having Reid whispering every word in her ear for two hours was the closest she had been to heaven in her entire life. The young doctor chuckled with a huge grin and turned to his desk again. 

- “Usually, translation doesn’t represent the intention behind the dialog…”- Reid was full of it and he knew it, but he had nothing to lose and lot to win- “So if you want, I can still whisper the English version for you”.

Those last words left his lips as quickly as possible, ‘cos he was embarrassed. 

- “Then it’s a date”- her smile was bigger than imagined when she turned around and started walking to her desk. 

Was it a date? why did she say that? Reid tried to stay cool and not overthink everything, but it was Reid, which meant it was hard, nearly impossible. Overthinking was his thing. 

He wanted to go out on a date with (Y/N), but… was that actually a date? what if he brought flowers for her and she didn’t mean “date” as a date but just as two friends going out together? that would be mortifying. 

(Y/N) didn’t know if Spencer had thought she wanted it to be a real date. She did, she just didn’t know if she was asking or if he had or… 

Yes, they were both excellent overthinkers. 

- “Hey, honey”- if she was already embarrassed and anxious about using the word “date”, she could always make it worst.

Spencer turned to look at her he took a bite of his sandwich. 

- “It was really sweet last night when you called me Buttercup”- Reid nearly choked. He had completely forgotten about it, and suddenly he felt the urge to run and hide. But he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t even swallow the food he was chewing 

- “You had never called me by a nickname before…”- she bit her lips and took a deep breath- “I loved it… in case you want to use it again.”

Spencer nodded and watched his best friend walk away to get herself a coffee. He could feel someone else’s eyes on him from across the office. Morgan winked at him and nodded. 

- “Nice, kid”

.

[lemonandpeachess]

Small Moments

Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:2,220

Summary: You and the squad have a little bit of downtime before completing a job from Cid. This time allow you to think ahead for the future of the squad, and of Omega. 

AN: I hope you all enjoy! This is my first bit of writing in a long time so we’re keeping it pretty simple. xx

Gif credits to the owner <3 

The noise was no stranger to you, the deep and seemingly endless drumming above your head. An icy coolness slips into your skin underneath your clothes, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation. While for the most part you enjoy your time on the ship with your crew and it feels just as much of a home as you could ask for, it did have its drawbacks. The closest thing to a simple rainfall you got to experience while cruising through space were meteor showers, and landing in the middle of one of those was not the most relaxing experience. You feel a small, hand wrap itself into your own, giving it a small squeeze. Your eyes cast down and you smile at the sweet brown eyes peering up at you from beneath wet, blonde curls. Omega has her hood over her head, holding down the side with her opposite hand against the wind.

“I sort of missed the rain (y/n).” She says, looking up at the sky and smiling, the raindrops sprinkling down on the two of you. You lift your head back up, sticking out your tongue. Omega looks at you, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Catching raindrops. You can do it with snowflakes too. We used to do it on my home planet when I was small.” The tiny clone follows your actions, laughing as she lets go of your hand and makes a show of running around you, catching the water droplets from above.

You were thankful that for both the sake of you and the squad, and for Omega herself, that she had taken the business of being a part of the team so seriously. The young one dove into everything that was ever handed to her, from Hunter’s hand to hand combat routines, to Tech and Echo’s near constant technological learning. She was a fighter, and a determined one at that.

Your heart was heavy at times however, thinking about how she was still a child. She should be able to enjoy the things children enjoy. The sweet, small things that with adulthood and the burdens of growing up, we all tended to forget and appreciate. You took it upon yourself to make your training for Omega to be how enjoy things she could not before, to make her feel like she wasn’t restricted, or stripped of her curiosity. You encouraged it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my data shows that the atmosphere on this planet coupled with the local vegetation means excessive consumption of precipitation could lead to harmful side effects.” Tech says as he walks past, guiding his scanner around you as he too gets off the ship. You purse your lips and look down at your small companion once more, chuckling.

“Bit of rain won’t hurt you.” Hunter says as he comes up behind the two of you, handing Omega her small backpack you had found for her at a market during your last job for Cid. You wanted her to have something of her own and found some amenities to put in it as well. Some new fresh clothes, and a small toolkit among other things, including her beloved clone trooper doll. “We should get inside though. Cid said we can stay at her camp here before we continue to the other side of the planet for the exchange tomorrow. We can’t proceed until late morning at least. Best to get some rest while we can.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice Sarge.” Wrecker yells from the belly of the ship. You hear his footsteps as he barrels down the gangway and feel him join you both. He grabs your own pack from your shoulder and puts it over his own, its size shrinking against his broad form. “You and the kid take your time, beautiful. I can take our stuff inside.”

“Wreck I can take that, it’s just a few things.” You laugh, grabbing for your pack. He dodges your efforts and keeps walking forward, turning to wink at you as he follows his brothers. You huff out another laugh and lead Omega towards the cleared path in the forest. “Well, I guess I’ll just escort you then my lady. I’ll get you settled in in Hunter’s room before I join them so we can go over the mission details for tomorrow.”

“Can’t I be there? I want to know what’s going on tomorrow too!” Omega asks, her shoulders slumping down a moment under her cloak. You squeeze her hand and nod.

“Alright Omega, you can come with me. We’ll drop your pack off and then find our way. Just be weary. I’m not sure what kind of mission this will be or what Hunter’s plans for you are. This may be one you need to sit out, for all I know the both of us might be sticking behind. You’re a part of the squad so I see no issue of you being there. Just be ready to play the part Hunter and the others have planned.” You tell her. Thankfully, Hunter had begun to allow her a little more freedom with her involvement in missions. There were still runs Cid sent you on however that weren’t worth the risk.

“I promise I will!” She says, saluting you. You look ahead as a clearing broke out of the path and you see a glassed-in observatory style station come into view. It looked like a two-story home, perfectly rectangular in shape. The walls were made completely of glass, save for the metal framing around the edges and planforms, holding the building above the ground. You imagined the views of the forest were breathtaking from inside. You had to give it to her, Cid had taste. 

“(y/n)? Can I ask just one question before we go in?”

“Go on Omega, I’m listening.” You answer, still looking towards your quarters for the night.

“What are snowflakes?” ***** You sigh as you enter the code to your keypad Wrecker directly behind you as you all retired to your rooms after the mission briefing. Omega left in happy spirits with Hunter as he had a part for her to play in this mission, the situation being a simple drop-off of supplies with payment, nothing too messy. Since Omega had paid off all your debt with Cid, you were able to stick to more low-profile jobs while you figured out a new plan regarding Omega’s safety and the unsettling end of the war.

“The kid seemed happy that she has a job to do with us. I like when she’s able to come out in the field with us.” Wrecker says, starting to take off his uniform. You cross your arms over your chest, still a little chilled from the rain as you look out. You were right before, as the whole building, including your room, was surrounded by windows. Thick, one-way, bulletproof windows, as Tech made sure to point out, given who owned it. It really was a beautiful sight.

The view made it easy to look out into the forest, the leaves on the branches, bright from the rain and crisp air. The foliage swayed back and forth with the wind, creating the most soothing hushing sound, mother natures lullaby. Accompanied of course by what had to be some type of owls, their deep calls coming from their nests in the surrounding trees. Open space had a soothing effect to most. It’s infinite darkness with specks of light, but to you, it was far too quiet. No outside noises penetrated the thick hull of the Havoc Marauder, only the synthetic beeps and whirs of the engines going off in the night could soothe you in the deafening moments.

“I know that ain’t true, you smacked me in the face with your pillow the other night cause you said I was snorin’ too loudly.” Wrecker points out, lifting his chest piece over his head, his upper body now free of the extra weight. You hadn’t realized that you were thinking out loud, though you often did it around Wrecker. He was your partner, for a couple years now. Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Echo you trusted with your life. With Wrecker, you trusted him with your life and your heart. You take his chest piece from his hand and set it in the trunk he had carried in along with your bag. “

That is different!” You laugh, coming back to take the final pieces of his suit, leaving him just in his black thermal set. You lay the final piece into the trunk and sit on a chair that faces the windows. “This place reminds me of things I love. The birds, the trees, the smell of the rain. You can’t find that in space big guy. I’m glad we’re able to take Omega with us to these different planets and worlds. It’s important she knows about the world and everything in it. Good and bad. I just try my bests to let her see the good to remember during those bad times. She’s going to have to fight for a lot in her life, an unfair amount…”

“Hey, listen-“You feel Wrecker stand behind you, putting one hand on your shoulder and gesturing for your other one. You put your hand in his and bring the warm top side of his to your lips, kissing it gently. His hands dwarfed your own, as he did most parts of you. You were always safe when you were with him, and you knew if he wasn’t near, it wouldn’t take much to have him barreling towards you at any moment when you needed him. “We’re gonna look after Omega. We made it this far, I’ll stand in front of anyone that tries to hurt her… Or take her away.”

“I know you would Wreck, we all would. She just adores and admires you all.” You say, his fingers grazing your cheek as you speak. You were honest too. If your run in with the bounty hunters wasn’t enough, you knew in your heart that child was probably the most protected thing in the galaxy.

“She likes you a lot too ya know. She tells me all the time.”

“Does she?” You smile to yourself. The word ‘love’ was seldom used around the ship, usually only regarding Mantell mix by a select few. The feeling was always present of course, the brothers all loved each other, and as the time went on, it extended to both yourself and Omega as well. Wrecker had told you after he told you he loved you for the first time in your relationship, that it was the first time he had said it to someone in such a way.

“She does. She thinks your beautiful, and smart and kind. I like her, she’s a smart kid.” Wrecker lets go of your hand and comes around to the front of your chair. You barely have a moment to look up before he picks you up into his arms like you were nothing, carrying you to the plush bed that was made up in the middle of the room. He sets you down gently and crawls into bed with you. 

“Cause I think you’re beautiful, kind, and smart too.”

You laugh and prop yourself up a little more as Wrecker settles beside you, who is also sitting up to look at you. You extend your hand and cradle his face in your hand, your thumb brushing along his cheekbone. Before you can reply you feel a yawn manifest in your throat before it escapes, your hand covering your mouth as you try and keep your gaze on your favourite trooper.

“Am I that boring?” He chuckles. You swing your legs back over the edge of the bed, starting to unhook your boots. Wrecker gets up from the bed again and walks to your pack, grabbing your sleep pants from it.

“No Wreck of course not. I’m sorry, I just feel really tired suddenly.” You reply, pulling off your boots and setting them beside the bed, keeping them close just in case. You feel his hands slip under your shirt and you let him lift the fabric from your body, leaving you in just a worn sports bra. As you wiggle out of your tactical pants, he hands you the black sweatpants and you slip them on, relishing in the feel of the soft fabric. You never seem to realize how tired your body is until you properly stop for a moment.

“It’s okay baby, it’s been a while since we had a break. Even when we do, you’re always doing something for us, or for Omega.” He says, joining you in bed again. You lay back on his chest, relaxing into him as you look out the array of windows and out into the wilderness around you. You wished you had time to explore more, and to enjoy your time there, but you could already feel sleep tugging you down, not being helped by Wrecker’s fingers grazing up and down you arm.

“I know- but I still wish we had some extra time. We haven’t had a lot of time together either, just the two of us. I’m sorry I’m wasting it.” You sigh, fingers dancing over his chest.

“Don’t worry (y/n).”  Wrecker takes his arm around you and rolls you onto his chest, almost laying you almost on top of him, kissing that spot on your neck that makes your heart thrum. “There’s always the morning. You know how much I like breakfast.”

[shurisneakers]

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence. 

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about. 

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit. 

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly. 

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked. 

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind. 

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in. 

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter.  There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying. 

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward. 

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him. 

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately. 

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface. 

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit. 

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else. 

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension. 

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you. 

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up. 

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago. 

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding. 

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had. 

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all. 

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

[gubler-me-up]

Perfectionism

Request: HELLOO, I’ve had an idea for literally months in my head but I wouldn’t be able to write it as good as you 🥺 Would you mind doing a Spencer reaction to his crush having bad body dysmorphia that they’ve been hiding from the team (they’re working for bau) but at a case or smn someone they’re interviewing comments negatively on their body and they break down once they think they’re alone? But Spence sees and reaches out and it’s really wholesome and soft? I’m a sucker for angsty fluff I’m sorry 😔

A/N: Thanks for the prompt anon, much appreciated! I hope this does justice to your well thought-out idea. I hope it satisfies all your angsty fluff needs! Side note, to everyone of my followers/readers I hope you know you’re beautiful and finding love/happiness within yourself takes time, but trust the process, loves ❤️ Enjoy! 

Category: Angsty fluff

Content warning: Swearing, mention of violence, self degradation

Word count: 2.3k

---------------

You stood in front of the mirror inside the police department’s washroom. You finished applying another thick layer of foundation on your face. You knew applying this much makeup to your face wasn’t good. Your dermatologist even recommended against it and advised you to let your skin breathe for a while to prevent over clogging your pores. He didn’t understand the problem of doing that though.

Without the concealer masking the dark circles under your eyes, you’d probably look dead. Maybe even worse. Without the foundation, your acne and healing acne scars would definitely bring unwanted attention to your face. It was certain to happen.

You had to wear them all the time, especially at work. You thought of how JJ probably never had to go through this. Her face was free of any sort of marks or blemishes. She always looked alive with her bright blue eyes with no heavy bags insight. No wonder Spencer had a crush on her a few years back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of your phone on the bathroom counter. You looked down to see Spencer’s name pop up informing you it was time to interview the suspect. A sigh left your mouth as you started packing up your products into your travel beauty kit.

As you walked out of the door, you noticed Spencer at the end of the poorly lit hall leading back out to the main lobby. When he noticed you were walking down the hall towards him, he smiled and waved. Sometimes you thought he was the cutest genius in the world.

“Hey, didn’t know you were waiting for me,” you said.

He shrugged. “Thought it would be nice for us to walk to the interview room together.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He nodded as you both started walking towards the interview room. You couldn’t help noticing he kept on looking at you. Especially your face. What if he saw your acne scars? Or even the acne itself? What if he was just noticing how strange your face looked?

You stopped walking. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

He stopped walking as well as he gave you a questionable look. “What?”

“Is there a reason you keep looking at my face?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, no reason, I just-”

“You just what?” You said before he even finished his sentence.

Spencer was taken back by your tone. Your words made it seem as if he was attacking you. You could tell from his confused facial expression. Before he could get a chance to pull his words together, you started walking again.

“Forget it. Let’s just focus on this interview.”

Spencer watched as you walked by him. He trailed behind you, trying his best not to say anything else. You knew you shouldn’t have snapped at him the way you did, but you couldn’t bear the possibility of him pointing out a flaw. You just knew he could see everything you tried so hard to hide.

As you two reached the interview room door you felt Spencer gently grab your arm. You turned to him to see how concerned he looked. Before you said anything he made sure to get the first few words out.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable back there. Whatever’s troubling you I’m here to help you get through it,” he assured you.

You smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate you, Spence. For now, let’s put what happened behind us for now and go interview this guy.”

Reid smiled as he gently squeezed your arm before letting you go. It felt nice having him reassure you, but he didn’t even know what he was reassuring you about. Maybe he didn’t notice your facial imperfections at all. Maybe he was genuinely admiring your face.

You opened up the interview room to see a dark-haired, middle-aged, white man sitting across the table. He was well put together with a buttoned-up blue shirt, black tie and his hair was slicked back. Physically he matched the profile perfectly. He looked as if he exuded arrogance as your profile detected the unsure would be like. He tried to keep a cool and emotionless demeanour, but by his furrowed eyebrows and wrinkling forehead, he was becoming impatient.

“Hello, I’m agent Y/N Y/L/N and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Adam Boyer, correct?” You said as you and Spencer took your seats.

“Glad you can read documents, agent,” he scoffed.

“I wouldn’t get so smart-mouthed yet, Boyer. According to some sketchy transactions between you, John McNeil and Robert Morrison it seems as if you have a lot to hide for someone so vocal,” you said.

He squinted his eyes at you. “What does this even have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but those two men are dead. You were the last person to contact both of them the day they died. A transaction of over half a million dollars goes missing and you get mad and-“

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, agent, but I didn’t murder my colleagues over money. My company makes more than that in a day, so spare me of your pathetic accusations.”

Before you could reply, Spencer jumped in to level out the tension between you and Boyer. He opened a file on the desk and pointed to a bank statement.

“It says here on your financial records your company is $1.5 million dollars in debt. We discovered Robert Morrison and John McNeil both gave you back their shares of the company to equate $500,000, which is legally a breach in the company’s contract for workers, including yourself, to share, distribute or give away company shares without a reasonable cause. According to the list of reasonable cause you failed to mention bankruptcy or were too arrogant at the time to force something like that happening to you,” Spencer said.

With everything he said, you could tell Boyer’s cool exterior was wearing off. He looked glossier in the face, started fidgeting with his tie and refused to look directly at Spencer. He decided to direct his attention to you instead.

“Well, isn’t that a huge mistake on my part, ain’t it?” He asked directly to you.

“Huge mistake or huge flaw in your plan of getting away with murdering your colleagues? I think it’s the second one, Boyer,” you said.

He leaned back in his chair without breaking any eye contact with you. He folded his hand in front of his chest. You had to admit he made your feel a bit uncomfortable.

“What else do you think?” He asked.

“I think you murdered your colleagues when they found out you had taken back their share of the company to pay back your debts. They would have ratted you out, got you fired from your own company or even worse, the whole company would have shut down and you’d have nothing left.”

“Nothing left,” Boyer said seemingly to himself.

“Yes, absolutely nothing. Your wife divorced you, took full custody of your two boys and now you spend your days throwing your money-approximately $1.5 million dollars-on trying to buy love from escorts,” you said.

It was as if something had woken up inside of him as he almost pounced across the table. Both you and Spencer got out of your seats with Spencer using his arm to block the front of you. It was as if it was a natural instinct for him to protect you before bracing himself.

“Sit down,” Spencer demanded.

“At least I have escorts willing to ride my dick. You couldn’t even pay a male stripper to look at that face of yours. Where’s the pretty agent who was in here before? If I’m going to be accused of a crime, I’d rather be accused by someone half decent looking. Get my fucking lawyer on the phone,” he proceeded to yell.

Though you shouldn’t have felt as bad as you did by the words he said, you did. The blunt force in his voice was vicious. The way he looked at you in disgust. His disgust was too real. He was bold enough to look at you the way everyone wanted to, but was too cautious to do it in front of your face.

“I’ll get your lawyer on the phone, you psycho,” you whispered before turning around to leave.

“Don’t forget to bring the real eye candy in as well, sweetheart,” he said.

You didn’t bother looking back at him or even Spencer. You felt your eyes get heavy with tears and knew it would be terrible to show weakness to such a vile suspect. You rushed out of the room before Spencer could stop you or even follow you close behind.

You rushed towards the washroom as your tears were at the brim of your eyes. As you reached the door, you paused. What if someone was in there? What if Emily or JJ saw you crying? You retracted your steps and decided to go to the family washroom instead.

You didn’t even wait until the door was fully closed before letting out your tears. You heavily wept to yourself as you replayed everything he had said to you. Spencer probably stood there agreeing with everything he said, word for word. Your face being hideous, JJ’s beauty surpassing the little you had, no one wanting you. You backed up against the wall to avoid the mirror, to avoid the disgusting reflection in the mirror.

The only reason you looked up was that you heard the washroom door open. You saw Spencer peak in. When he saw the tears running down your face, he didn’t hesitate to go over to you with concern written all over his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I hope he didn’t get to you,” he said as he reached out his hands.

You assumed he was going to try to wipe the tears from your face, so you pushed away his hands. You couldn’t stand the thought of him touching your face if he thought it was hideous. You didn’t even want him looking at you directly. You looked down to avoid your face being in the presence of his.

He attempted to lift your head up by placing his hand on your chin. You flinched at his touch and moved your head out of his grasp. New tears started to spill from your eyes as you looked at him with despair.

“Can you stop, Spencer?” You wept.

He looked at you confused. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me. I know my face is ugly, okay? Everyone knows and it’s just degrading for you to pretend not to notice,” you snapped at him.

“Y/N, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

“Spencer, I know you see it. My acne and acne scars. It doesn’t help that my face is always shiny and my cheeks are chubby. You don’t have to pretend to be blind to it for the sake of my feelings.”

“You thought I was looking at you earlier because you think I think you’re ugly? Y/N that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then why were you looking at me? Be honest.”

“Because I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Ugh, Spencer, you don-”

He grabbed both your hands in his big ones, grasping them tightly. You looked down at your hands in his and then looked up into his eyes. He looked longingly at you. You could see the genuine look of love in his face.

“Y/N, I know what you’re going through. Body dysmorphia’s not an easy thing to fight off by yourself, but I want to assure you every day that I think you’re the most beautiful person I know; both inside and out.”

You let out a deep breath as you felt round three of tears coming to your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t think of a moment you felt genuinely pretty. His words could move mountains.

“But if Adam Boyer could-”

“Please don’t let a psychopath make you feel unsure of yourself. He only belittled you because he lost control of the situation and decided to target you. His idea of a perfect girl is someone he can dominate, which makes him disgusting not you.”

He let go of your right hand as he wiped away a tear making its way down your face. You grasped his left hand hard as he touched your face. It still made you feel uncomfortable, but you were happy Spencer cared deeply for you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched your face if you’re not comfortable with that yet. I know it takes time to breakdown this idea of what perfect is especially with so many beauty standards being pushed by society, but I’ll be here to help you realize you’re the most beautiful you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way,” he said.

You smiled at his words as you wiped away the few stray tears running down your face. You had to admit you liked it better when he did it. You leaned your head back, took a deep breath, let it out and then looked at Spencer.

“Thank you for being you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way as well,” you said.

He smiled. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. If you want me to be that is.”

“I do. I really do.”

“Maybe after we’re done with this case we can do something together to help you remember the beautiful person you are.”

“I’d love that.”

You both walked towards the washroom door. Spencer made sure not to let go of your hand until you two left the washroom. You felt as if he wanted you to grasp onto the positive energy he had for you. You felt uplifted in a way. This must be the benefit of the Spencer Reid effect.

—–

MASTERLIST

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

ayup, clanny! have you seen the AGOTI mod yet? if yes, can you do some headcanons or a scenario where the newly imprisoned AGOTI meets the unwilling warden of the void who’s been trying to escape for a few years (i think time moves faster in the void), so they team up to get out. When Cherry and Keith show up, Cherry actually recognizes the warden as the crazy talented old producer for her and Tabi before they mysteriously disappeared, and they all end up escaping and the warden becomes AGOTI’s new producer. -🎋🦊

Ooooh nice idea! I love the mod so yes ......

"Ugh..stupid-ass demon scumbags!" Agoti stormed around the Void in anger, jumping from one floating rock to the next. "They couldn't handle me taking the spotlight?! What kinda bullshit is that?!!"

"Hey buddy, you might wanna chill out-"

"SHUT UP, ASSHOLE!!" Spinning around, the tendrils of his hair lashed out at the other person who spoke.

But he was surprised when you dodged the attack. With little effort you grabbed his hair and flipped him over, sending him crashing to the ground. He groaned in pain and opened his eyes, shocked to see the electrified prong aimed at his chest.

Though he also saw you were covered in armor, sporting a symbol of some kind on your chestplate. "I'm giving you one more chance to calm down." You warned. "I really don't like hurting people."

"Yeah? Well you really kicked the shit outta me just now.." Agoti hissed, but ultimately decided to give in. "Fine. I'm cool. Can ya point that thing somewhere else?"

You nodded and held your spear back to your side, while he got up and dusted himself off. "Who are you anyway?"

"The Warden of the Void. I assume you're that hotheaded "A Guy On The In-""

"Just call me Agoti. It's less of a mouthful." He put his hands on his hips, looking around at the white sky. "So you're the warden of this place? This goddamn prison that I shouldn't even be in.."

"I heard a lot of folks say that but..I'm inclined to agree with you."

He did a double-take. "Wait, really?"

"According to this log.." Waving your hand, you brought up a hologram that displayed his profile. "You're here for...outshining every singer in your town and threatening the careers of two famous rockstars?"

"...what the fuck..so they weren't bullshitting?"

"No. To be sent here because of that is an unusual punishment."

"So you can't enter a plea deal or whatever? Make those jerks come in here instead?"

"Unfortunately I can't." You made the hologram disappear. "In a way I was wrongfully imprisoned, too."

Agoti seemed baffled, so you explained how you were sent here ages ago. You've forgotten what you previously did, but one day you were just randomly given the duties of the Void's warden. Anything you needed to subdue and process prisoners was granted to you--but you could never leave even if your sentence was finished.

You've sought out ways of escaping for years...without much success. But you didn't wanna get caught, and until Agoti came here, you had no actual incentive to leave.

Once you finished your story, the screen demon hummed in thought. "So..you want out, I want out. I bet we can make something happen." With a toothy grin, he offered his hand to you. "How 'bout you show me the ropes and I'll help you find an escape? Deal?"

"It could take us a long time to figure that out." You hesitated. "You should be aware that time moves exceptionally fast in this dimension. Minutes out there are like hours in here-"

"So what? Better to start finding a way out now than later. C'mon.." Agoti was growing impatient, but fortunately he managed to get through to you, as you shook his hand.

"Alright, Agoti. It's a deal." You smiled.

...........

Neither you or Agoti knew how long it's been since you made that deal to help each other escape.

But finally, you figured it out. The solution was right there in front of you all along:

A singing battle

Singing was the key to escaping this place. With the combined soundwaves of two singers, a portal to the real world could be produced.

Now the only problem was...you were never really a singer, and Agoti was. So it wouldn't be a fair match that can create a strong-enough portal.

"You're tellin' me there ain't another goddamn singer here?!!" He fumed one day as you regrettably told him no other prisoner was proficient in music. "Great..juuuuuust GREAT!! We spent all this time and got nothing out of-!"

"Wait, what's that?"

Agoti looked to where you were pointing, seeing a portal opening up in the sky, before two figures fell out of it: a boy with blue hair and a girl in a red dress.

They crash landed onto the platform you and Agoti were on, miraculously suffering no injuries of any kind.

"Huh..this is new.." He remarked as he approached the couple.

The blue-haired boy made a beeping noise, standing up and rubbing his head. You noticed the microphone in his hands, but more notably..you recognized the girl who was with him.

"My apologies but..have we met?"

"Hm?" The brunette looked up at you, surprised, though you could see her eyes flash with recognition. "Are you...[y/n]?"

"[Y/n]? You two know each other?" Agoti quirked an eyebrow, bewildered. He hadn't known your actual name until now.

"Yeah, a long time ago I was her music producer. But last time I saw her she was with someone else." You mused, trying to remember who her last boyfriend was. "It was.....Tabi wasn't it, Charlotte?"

"Woah woah...Tabi dated her?!! No way. He never told me about that!"

"Yeah um..we were together for a while," Charlotte awkwardly chuckled. "But....I-I'd rather not talk about it. I just have a new boyfriend now. He's Keith." She gestured to the blue-haired guy.

"Yeah! And..uh...skee deh beh doo bop!" Keith pointed at Agoti, who looked offended by whatever he said.

But he went back to snarling at the pair, manifesting a microphone out of thin air as he stepped closer. "Another singer, huh? Well I hope you have better insults than that! Because we're all gonna be here a while....a very long one."

Knowing what was about to happen, you decided to stand by them and make sure nobody else interrupted, while Charlotte hopped onto a nearby floating rock.

And so you watched Agoti and Keith have a rap battle, in which your friend kept losing again and again. You did try to warn him not to lose his temper, as this could be the only chance of you two escaping this prison.

But his frustration and impatience got the better of him, as by the third round he turned the platform into a giant speaker and sent it flying into the air. Poor Charlotte was clinging onto the rock for dear life, but you caught her and tried to keep steady as the platform swayed.

"Well..so much for "staying calm"." You sighed as Agoti shouted at his rival, berating him for "insulting him", before the two had one final showdown.

Although he lost yet again, their combined efforts managed to breach a portal into the dimension, and you all escaped through it.

Finally..you and Agoti were free from this hell.

~Epilogue~

In the weeks following the events in the Void, you've decided to become Agoti's new music producer once his career started back up. Thanks to your talent, the fans returned in no time at all.

The main issue was him previously making a competition out of singing, so he decided to perform his music locally and lose the ego...just a little bit of it.

Meanwhile Solazar, his friend and manager, was concerned about Charlotte and her ties to the family that trapped you to begin with.

Though the two of you just brushed that aside for the time being, wanting a chance to experience the real world again.

It was good to be back.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi!! Could you do a rdr2 oneshot and Arthur is a chubby boi and insecure about it?? I'm a hoe for chubby Arthur 🧍‍♀️many thanks!!

A/N: Omg I haven’t been able to find enough chubby!Arthur on here but I love him!!! My masterlist is here and here is the link to go to if you want to be on any of my taglists!

Warnings: poor self image and Arthur hating on himself

***

“Thank you for giving me a hand with dinner tonight, Y/N.” 

You looked over your shoulder to Pearson, offering him a little smile. 

“I wasn’t busy and I don’t mind lending a hand.”

“I’m glad someone helps out around here.” He muttered, sending Molly a brief glare. She sat at the table across from you, touching up on her lipstick. You had been chatting with her while you cut up vegetables for Pearson. 

“Would you want her cuttin’ up vegetables for dinner?” You asked him, keeping your voice low enough so she wouldn’t hear you. “Might end up losing a finger in the stew.”

“That would be somethin’.” He chuckled. 

As Pearson moved towards his wagon to retrieve something, you picked up your conversation with Molly. She was as worried as could be about Dutch.

“Dutch is…. He’s got a lot on his shoulders right now, Molly.”

“But you see that he’s different too, don’t you?” She put her compact mirror down and looked at you. “I’m-I’m not just goin’ crazy, am I?”

“No, Molly. You aren’t.” You shook your head. “If you’d like, I can see if Arthur would be willing to talk to him.”

She was quiet, her eyes finding Dutch. He was standing at the fire not too far away with Hosea, John, Micah, and Ms. Grimshaw.

You put the chopped carrots into a bowl and wiped off the blade of your knife. As you moved on to the potatoes, you looked up to find Arthur. A few minutes ago when you had last checked on him, he was sitting at another table across from camp with Sadie. He was still there, but Sadie was gone. 

He still appeared to be tense and to have something on his mind. All day, he had been grumpy and distant. After he insisted that nothing was wrong, you were somewhat convinced that he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

“There she is. Mi amor.” 

You turned your head to see Javier move around the table you were at. You smiled at him.

You had met Javier long before you ever joined the Van der Linde gang. You were close friends with the outlaw and had a rather flirtatious relationship with him, though it never went further than flirty comments.

“When are we going to go on that fishing trip, cariño?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You picked up a potato and began to peel it. “I reckon when you can buy me one of them fancy boats.” 

“A fancy boat? What do you need a fancy boat to go fishing for?” Javier eyed what you were doing, paying attention to your knife work. “You handle that knife well, amor. Who taught you so well?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well he was teasing you. He was the one who taught you how to use a knife. 

“Some fella I met a while ago.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur move. You turned your head to watch him walk away, taking note of how fast he moved and how tense he appeared. You wanted to follow him and make sure he was okay, but you had to finish helping Pearson with dinner. 

***

A while later, Pearson called for everyone to come get dinner. You excused yourself from the table with Hosea, John, and Lenny to go find Arthur. The grump was upstairs in his room. He was laying on his bed with one knee bent slightly and his eyes focused on the ceiling. Upon hearing the bedroom door creak open, Arthur sat up. His broad shoulders were hunched and he didn’t meet your gaze.

“Supper’s ready, darlin’.” You held the door open for him.

“Not hungry.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten much all day.”

“Yeah, m’sure.” 

You watched him for a few moments. Your stomach twisted up into knots at the sound of his voice, small and weak. Something was wrong. He just was being stubborn and keeping it from you. 

You looked out into the hall, listening for a few moments to see if anyone else was in the house. Luckily, everyone was outside having dinner. You stepped back into Arthur’s room and closed the door behind yourself. Your footsteps were quiet as you crossed the room to sit down on the bed next to him.

He kept his eyes on the wooden floorboards between his boots, unable to bring himself to look at you. He knew the second he looked at you, the second he gazed into those Y/E/C eyes, he’d be done for. He’d pour his heart out and bare his soul to you. It happened far too often when he felt like this. 

You placed your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently combing through the dirty blond hair at his nape. You leaned over to kiss his shoulder, not minding that you were kissing the material of his dark blue button down. 

“I know you better than you think, Arthur Morgan.” You murmured against his shoulder. “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to…. But I am here for you always.”

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do, pumpkin.” He whispered. 

“I’m sure there’s something I could do.” You studied his profile, admiring everything from his lashes to the curve of his chin. You reached over to place your hand on the side of his face and gently turned his head towards you.

Blue eyes met yours. You smiled. He tried to but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was forced. It didn’t belong on his lips. 

“I-I just….” He trailed off, pulling your hand from his face. He kept ahold of your hand, dropping his gaze to where he now held your hand in his lap. “You know there’s always gonna be…. There’s gonna be better for you out there, pumpkin. Someone better for you than me.”

Your heart sunk at the realization that this was what had been on his mind all day.

“Arthur Morgan, there is no one better for me than the man sittin’ right here next to me.” You squeezed his hand. 

“That ain’t true.” He murmured. “Why didn’t you and Javier ever get together?”

“Arthur.” You said his name gently. “We’ve been over this. Javier and I are just friends. Nothing more. I don’t see him that way and he surely doesn’t see me that way. I’m a flirt, you know that. All sweet talk.”

“I know. Just…. I ain’t nothin’ like Javier or Charles or even Sean or Lenny. I’m more like Bill or Pearson.”

“And what in the world makes you say that?” You furrowed your brows together. “Arthur, you’re nothing like Bill or Pearson.” 

“Startin’ to look like ‘em.” He muttered. 

“Oh, Arthur.” You placed your hand on his thigh. “No you don’t–,”

“Don’t say that, Y/N.” Arthur stood up suddenly, taking a few steps away from the bed, turning to face you. He ran his hands over his face then back through his hair. “It ain’t so subtle, Y/N. Shirts ain’t fittin’ like they used to. And my belts, they’re needin’ to be put on a different loop than they used to be. Soon I’ll have a gut like Pearson or Williamson!”

“Arthur.” You said his name calmly, but he wasn’t finished yet. 

“And you! My god, Y/N! You don’t deserve an old ugly bastard like me! You don’t deserve the kind of life I can give you! You-You deserve a house and somewhere to call home. You deserve to have a family and somewhere stable to be. You don’t deserve this life. You deserve better.” His voice lowered to a broken whisper as he looked at you with teary blue eyes. “So much better than I could ever give you.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. You looked down as tears welled in your eyes. 

He had stopped yelling his frustrations but now his tone had shifted to something more hoarse and broken. 

“I-I just…. When I look in the mirror, Y/N, I can’t find a single damn thing worth shit. And that just ain’t fair to you.” 

You brushed the tears from your cheeks, biting down on your trembling bottom lip. 

As Arthur stood there a few feet away from the bed looking at you, guilt began to form a nasty ball in the pit of his stomach while he watched you cry.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, pumpkin.” He wanted to move to your side to comfort you, but his boots were stuck to the wooden floorboards beneath him.

You shook your head softly, not yet trusting your voice. You patted the space on the bed next to you, silently telling him to return to where he had been just a few minutes earlier. 

He shuffled over to sit down next to you, allowing you to wrap one of your arms around his that was closest to you. You tucked your nose into his shoulder, inhaling his scent for a few minutes. 

“Arthur Morgan. Where to begin?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled a little, but it was hidden since you were still nose deep in his shoulder.

“I think you’re still as handsome as ever, no matter what weight you gain. And if I’m being honest with you, I don’t mind it at all. You always tell me you like to put you head on my thighs/”

“‘Cause they’re soft and comfortable. Perfect for naps.” He placed his hand on your thigh and as if to prove a point, he gave you a soft squeeze. 

“Exactly. There ain’t nothing wrong with being soft and comfortable, Arthur. And just because you’ve gained weight doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me. The two have no correlation.” You lifted your head from his shoulder and reached over to take hold of his chin. You turned his head so that he had no choice but to face you. “I love you, Arthur Morgan. You’re a good man with a heart of gold. If there’s better out there, I don’t want it. I only want you, ya hear?”

He nodded softly, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“Hearin’ you talk so badly about yourself breaks my heart. You’re so much more than you think.” You kissed his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the stubble along his jaw.

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it. We can fix it. It’ll just take some time and a lot of effort from you, you stubborn man.” You let his chin go and placed your hand on his knee, rubbing gently. “Do you want to go downstairs and have dinner with everyone else? Or do you want me to bring our bowls up here?”

He thought about it for a moment, his hand on the small of your back racing circles into your shirt.

“Let’s go down there. I could use some fresh air.”

You nodded, giving him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. 

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...